 | The Lady of La Garaye |  |
Through thee, how often hath been borne away
Man's share of dual life—the senseless clay!
Through thee how oft hath hastened, glad and bold,
God's share—the eager spirit in that mould;
But neither life nor death hath left a trace
On the strange silence of that vacant place.
Man's share of dual life—the senseless clay!
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God's share—the eager spirit in that mould;
But neither life nor death hath left a trace
On the strange silence of that vacant place.
| The Lady of La Garaye | |